Soldier's Story
by Tyrant Hobbes
Summary: Soldier's Story is a chronicalizion of side stories included in the Second Tiberium War, as depicted in Command and Conquer: Tiberian Sun. Individual pilots and soldiers retell their experiences in combat. (FICTION)
1. Infiltration

The task force group sat camped 5 miles out from the GDI base nearby. A cold, harsh wind had kicked up, and cut at the soldiers faces as they prepared for the coming mission. 1st Lieutenant Brian Mitchell sat huddled with his comrade 2nd Lieutenant Eric Hastings. The two had graduated from New West Point together and completed OCS, and were also childhood friends. The task force commander, a gruff, surly Major by the name of George Collins, sat clustered with his logistics and intelligence operatives, discussing battle tactics and strategies, stuff not important to a soldier. They were trained to be Mo-bile, Hos-tile, and Ag-ile, not strategic thinkers. Get in, shoot some blunts (shared NOD/Forgotten term for GDI soldiers) and complete the objective as stated.  
  
He shrugged off a quick chill and looked to the tall, collapsible tower that served as the primary lookout post. As usual, the sentry was a sleep, as was most of the base. With the silence of inactivity, he could tune in to the lightest of tones and the slightest ground vibrations. As he drifted closer to disturbed slumber, he heard a distant rumble. His senses perked up and his body began to release dopamine and adrenaline into his blood. He was instantly alert. Removing a pair of binocs from his jacket, he scanned the distance. HE saw a rooster-tailed cloud of dust slowly rising, with quick dashes of read appearing in between. The reinforcements had arrived.  
  
A squad of three attack buggies and 5 attack cycles parked in the outskirts of the makeshift base. Several soldiers emerged from the convoy, and a surfaced APC was approaching quickly. A single soldier made his way to the TF commander, who shook hands and spoke briefly, before returning to his convoy and driving off into the distance the way they came. So much for the reinforcements.  
  
Dawn broke, and Mitchell discovered he had fallen asleep. Several soldiers were already prepped and in battle dress uniform, ready to go to combat. After all of the soldiers had been awakened, they began their solemn march toward the GDI facility. Most of the lower ranking grunts hadn't been told of any long-term objective, other than: Infiltrate the GDI Communications Centres, Neutralize enemy threats, and Protect and Preserve the information within the centers. Mitchell had been informed of the greater aspects of this assault. Important technological data involving weapons research, which was allegedly stolen from NOD by GDI spies, is stored within its computer system, and requires direct retrieval. Digital infiltration had proved impossible, as several technicians had been assassinated when access attempts had been traced to individual NOD operatives. Top brass officials had determined that a strike force was required to retrieve the data, not just a single operative. They also decided that the centres should be taken in whole, with soldiers minimizing collateral damage to weapons systems.  
  
As the procession began its dull march, dusk had already started to fall. Briefings, munitions distributing, and last minute tactical training had consumed the daylight, and they wanted to utilize the double-entendre of deep-dark cover and surprise to overwhelm the centres. The troops approached the south entrance, which was apparently less defended from assault, given its flank was facing seaward to the Baltic. Electronic Countermeasure operatives had infiltrated the towers and deactivated their sensor arrays. With perimeter defenses deactivated, the force could penetrate the base and complete its missions. Sentries were established and the remainder of the forces began the mission into the base.  
  
Stepping into the main courtyard, which was suspiciously empty, they crouched low and searched for enemies. At first, all seemed clear, and we made our way to the first Comm Centre. Staff Sergeant Victor Carter led a three-man team into the facility. They exited victoriously with a cache of data discs. Five gun reports were heard, barely. A sniper! Running for cover out of the open, a bullet struck him in the chest, and he fell to the ground, the discs crashing into the ground, a bullet hole in each. The other two operatives had dove for cover with the rest of the group, and several bursts of silenced, automated fire. A few men took bullets in stray limbs, but there were no causalites -- yet.  
  
Suddenly, bright, blinding lights were activated, and a ring of GDI soldiers surrounded the forces, weapons drawn, safeties deactivated. None of use fired. I think a bit of each of us inside wanted us to be taken alive, to allow us a chance to escape, or at least live again. A GDI commander executed a single command and they opened fire on us. Half of the men were instantly gunned down. Bodies of our comrades dropped to the ground, dead and wounded, and the survivors took refuge beneath their bodies. Bullets ripped through their dead bodies, while GDI soldiers slowly began to dwindle. Eventually, three of soldiers, Major Collins, the taskforce commander, Lance Corporal Davis, a young soldier drafted by his country, and myself were left. We were the only survivors of a 20-man raid. I forgot to mention -- that mechanized division that stopped by earlier -- they were only there to warm up and eat. We really could have used those AB/C's in combat. And sometimes I wonder if NOD is really winning this war. 


	2. Bombardment

Chief Warrant Officer Darrel Briggs groaned in the overwhelming heat of the Harpy. His squadron was flying recon patrols over the tactical headquarters several miles out from a nearby GDI base. Practicing and drilling evasive maneuvers, basic dogfighting skills and diversionary measures, Briggs and his squadron were jacked and ready for some combat. Turning his Harpy around, he makes a beeline to the helipad within the heavily fortified defensive base of Fort Terrier. Waving to the tactical command post below him, he saw the welcoming faces of commanders and soldiers alike. A good airman could be a great asset in a firefight, but Briggs didn't consider himself the best. He thought his wingman, 2nd Lieutenant Karyn Forticelli displayed the greatest abilities in piloting and dogfighting. Many a time had he been locked in her crosshairs in flight simulation, but she always attributed it to luck.  
  
Landing back inside Terrier's walls, he met up with his fellow pilots, and discussed their strategies and tactics individually. After all, his job as squad leader was to comment and make corrections to improper or hazardous conduct. Later on, the pilots showed their avid ability to absorb suggestions as they took their lessons learned into the skies in several more training sorties before their newest combat mission was dispatched.  
  
NOD air-strike battalions had been organized into the greatest military command group, a Corps. It was a vast and extremely large grouping of similar weapons or abilities for a specific purpose. Terrier Corps, as it had been so properly named, was behind held within the expansive air-dock facility on Earth. A majority of the NOD air forces were assembled and dispatched from this area, and remains the largest producer of NOD air weapons. Within its 200+ docking stations were crews of over 300 each, technicians, engineers, and construction workers maintained the facilities, designed and constructed Banshee and Harpy components, and assembled them into the light-weight fists of fury that NOD connived to use against the GDI Mammoth research facility.  
  
The commanding officer of Terrier Corp, Brigadier General Daniel Franks, was responsible for organizing the precise tactical maneuvers of this massive strike-force. Battalion commanders had informed the company commanders, who informed their squadron leaders, who reported to the pilots, that battles would first take place head-on to the base, engaging the SAM sites and RPG launchers. From there, the force would make its way through the base, destroying ground defense sites such as Vulcan Cannons and RPG launchers. The surviving forces would then destroy essential command and research facilities, moving from MCVs to Power Plants to factories, ensuring that the Communication Centres were either captured or destroyed. If all of this did not go into plan, the massive subterranean APC force that would follow behind would be demolished by ground defenses. Within the APCs were engineering crews, each crew ordered to infiltrate and convert essential buildings into NOD possessions. The main objective behind this assault was to setback GDI research into the Mammoth Mk. II and other research projects. Engineers were being trained in massive numbers to fulfil objectives to retrieve combat data on new Titan models and Wolverine weapons specifications. After all resistance was neutralized, or the force was damaged enough to warrant retreat, a ground force strike team would invade the base, and destroy its contents internally.  
  
Alarum sounded, and pilots made their way speedily to the launch pads, initiating startup sequences, loading munitions, and warming up engines. In one orchestrated movement, a massive force of over 200 Harpies rose from the ground like a flock of locusts, grey and monstrous. Airmen tested their weapons systems, examining lock-on and missile cruise range. After a quick analysis of the battle fleet, he noticed a few Banshee bomber prototypes within the ranks. He had not been informed of the use of such devastating weapons. Their plasma weapons would more than likely neutralize any threats to the Corps, but also any important data contained within nearby buildings. He shook off any doubts in the Banshee's abilities, and moved forward through the battle group, checking up on his troops. Roll call was completed, and each squad leader checked off attendance and flight capability, and they were off.  
  
  
  
The engines of the massive force roared as one, a hideous buzzing in the background of the hover components. In all of the confusion of the fist takeoff, several airmen had bumped into each other, with squad leaders barking into their comm units to keep a clear head and maintain a visual on your surroundings. Not from Briggs squadron -- they normally were the bumpers, able to keep up with the trained experts guiding the force from Fort Terrier. Within no time flat, the several miles to the research facility was covered, and the assault began.  
  
Instantly, SAM missiles and ground fire from ground troops took out a few of the front runners. This had been planned, so most of the front units were remotely piloted, NOD technicians at home safe from enemy fire. The units quickly hugged the ground, taking cover from SAM missiles under the radar, only to pop up and take a few calculated missiles shots at SAM turrets. Slowly, SAM sites were neutralized, and units made their way forward, easily destroying the undefended ground forces and structures. An explosion in the distance, followed by the roar of Harpy engines, signified that the massive hulk of a deactivated Mammoth prototype had been destroyed. Flying through the debris and fire, the three victorious pilots cheered over the comm. Suddenly, a thin, blue streak tore through the sky, impacting with the front pilot. Earth-shaking impacts on the hard soil shook GDI ground forces, which were confused initially, looked back, and raised their weapons, cheering. A battle-ready Mammoth Mark II exited the war factory facility, guns ablazing. Its Vulcan Cannons blew through the hulls of jets, the SAM missile packs demolished whole squadrons, and the feared rail guns tore through hull after hull, without pause. Pilots looked in fear as they honorably charged the marching monstrosity, missiles flying, bullets raging, exploding harmlessly, and bouncing uselessly, off of the enforced hull. Company commanders called for a quick retreat, and the forces moved toward Fort Terrier. In the distance, we saw the jerry- rigged EM Pulse Cannon elevate, and make its target. The bluish ball of energy flew over the ragged and battle-torn force, and the pilots turned to see the impact, continuing their hasty retreat. A white, blinding blast filled the sky, and a shockwave rolled over its borders, blowing over the cement walls and observation towers. The Mammoth stood disables, blue ion bolts darting over its armor. With its shields disabled, and weapons systems offline, the troops continued the attack.  
  
GDI upper brass had not anticipated the construction of an EMP Cannon at the tactical base, and was overwhelmed by such a miscalculation in NOD stratagem. A second EMP blast caused the Harpy force to come to a careening halt, several pilots falling to the ground in a blast of jetwash, its energy blast impacting with the Mammoth, causing it to topple and fall. The blue-white shockwave flooded toward the Harpies, and they continued the hasty retreat. The EMP cannon was shutoff, and the APC convoy was seen digging their tunnels underneath the hard soil. In the chaos of the EMP bombartmet, the APCs rose to the surface, their engineering squads infiltrating the MCVs and Communications Centres. A few of them were busy arming pseudo-nuclear devices to the hull of the fallen Mammoth. With such efficiency, and sheer numbers, the engineers were able to reboard the APCs and escape home, with minimal casualties. As the Harpies landed in their bays, noticing more then enough remained empty, they watched as the bombs detonated on the Mammoth and spreading over the border or the base. Had the massive walker been destroyed, or had the armor held? No one wished to find out, and the few soldiers that did, never returned to active duty, or never returned. 


	3. Hostile Takeover

Reveille sounded at approximately 0600. Major Frederick Banks rose from his bunk at 0530, dressed in his Battle Dress Uniform and decoration for Sunday mass. The remainders of the enlisted men were just now rising for mass at 0700. Several officers had awakened before Banks, and had joined their colleagues in coffee rooms and wardrooms throughout the base. Half an hour later, a flood of uniformed troopers made their way to the sector church and sat down for this week's sermon from the Padre, Technical Sergeant Aaron Westbrook.  
  
At 0770, the men were settling in for the normally intriguing and enrapturing sermon, but today was different. As the Padre began his session, a thundering roar erupted from all directions. The soldiers rose from their seats, only to be gunned down by automatic gunfire. The rest of the patrons had take cover behind the wooden pews, the bullets firing overhead. Bank instinctively unholstered his sidearm, and fired blindly into the gunfire, hoping his mark had been made and hadn't hit another serviceman. When the continuous fire had kept them pinned down for several minutes, reinforcement arrived in the form of an armored cavalry regiment returning from exercises. The force commander had obviously seen the assault upon the church and took immediate took action, flanking the unsuspecting infantry assault force by surprise, and forcing them back from the church and into a nearby pasture. With the infantry forces pushed away from the church, the patrons could slowly evacuate the church, and the active duty servicemen reported to the armory to retrieve weapons and vehicles.  
  
Banks made his way quickly to the armory in a motor pool Hummer parked nearby, and charged headlong into the rush of soldiers to bring order to the dispensary. From his post behind the booth, he could see Titan, Wolverine, and Orca Pilots boarding their vehicles, arming their weapons and making last minute repairs before going into standby for the imminent attack orders. When the infantrymen were suited up, squad and platoon leaders, company and division commanders, and regimental brass examined their intelligence, and devised a counter-assault against a nearby NOD tactical facility, fully equipped with a Construction Facility, power supply, and unit-creating structures. Taking out a close-range tactical base with hardened defenses required more than unorganized, random assaults. Upper brass decided that, with no nearby Tiberium resources, they would let the facility run its resources out by slowly destroying its offensive units until they could attack the base with little or no resistance.  
  
The second NOD offensive occurred three days later, in the form of a large Assault Buggy force, which did significant damage to the GDI facility's standing infantry army, but with the great amount of Tiberium resources stockpiled and available for harvesting, they had no problem reinforcing the troop ranks. Major Banks was instructed by his superiors in intelligence to lead a taskforce of units of his own choosing, into a primary offensive against the NOD base. His forces, a combination of a Harpy squadron, three divisions of Assault Buggies and Attack Cycles, and a brigade of assorted infantry men, made a successful assault against the weakening NOD base, managing to neutralize and disable many outer defense posts and defensive weapons such as lasers and SAMs. With perimeter bases neutralized, ground forces began their siege of the base. Titan artillery batteries were brought in, and torn the base apart from the inside. The tactical centre appeared to be falling. Spirits were running high through the three-day siege as it neared to a close, but then their moral was dealt a serious blow. Sentries had reported a steady and quick growth of Tiberium veins, which were steadily approaching the GDI base. Units were sent home to fortify against the corrosive growth, and the NOD forces regained the upper hand. They repealed every assault against the base. Small commando forces to vast battalion strike forces were repelled from the base. Even worse, they had become offensive, actively exiting the walls of the base for guerrilla assaults against the base. Upper brass made the decision that a major bombing mission would commence, commanded by the Major. With a crew of over 30 Orca bombers and 50 Orca Assault Fighters, they prepared the coming 'slaughter' of the NOD base.  
  
Bank's airmen were mentally and physically ready for battle. On the day of the sortie, pilots quickly and efficiently boarded their vessels and performed preflight checks. When all was reported well, the massive force moved forward in echelons, forces becoming progressively bigger in numbers as waves returned. A squadron of 5 bombers was sent out first, 2 of which returned -- badly damaged. Next a 10-plane force was sent out, then 15, then 20, and so on and so forth. When Bank's own squadron entered the fray, he was confident of their abilities -- but would they be enough.  
  
He suited up with his men, boarding their Orca Fighters and arming ordinances. With the command of the runway jack, the airmen responsible for directing air traffic, they lifted off, flying toward the NOD base. A few moments after they had left the protective boarder of the base, anti- air batteries opened fire, missiles and shells blackening the early afternoon sky. Around Banks, planes were exploding in steady numbers, they payload and fuselage falling to the base bellow. SAM missiles locked onto him, and a few evasive maneuvers sent the missile splaying in the open air, undirected. During a routine check-in, Banks' wingman, Lieutenant Mitchell, was shot down, his missile pack deploying, and his bomb payload dropping. In a strategic crash landing, the late Mitchell managed to bring his fighter down atop the base MCV. With the structure now located, they ambushed it. Vulcan Cannons, SAM missiles, anti-air shells, Surefire Orca Missiles and Payday Orca Bombs were flying everywhere. Bullet streams tore through hulls. SAM sites demolished oncoming planes, shells bit into, and shredded armor shards. But -- the Surefire missiles and Payday bombs were making their own mark. Many nod structures were left burning, engineering crews rushing to reclaim the building, only to be shot dead by incoming ground forces.  
  
In the chaos of the air assault, all defensive forces had been forwarded to the anti-air batteries, allowing the ground troops to enter with reduced resistance. From his post above the burning war factory, Bank's saw numerous infantry platoons and demolition crews fire up the remains of troop transports, structures, soldiers and aircraft. He circled of the invading ground force, a cheer rose up as his other wingmen joined Banks' and they kicked in the afterburners, flying due south to survey for any escaping forces.  
  
"Major -- that was a hell of a defense that had established there," stated the Padre.  
  
"Quite. I don't think General McMichael had anticipated such a defensive grid -- but we overcame it -- so just calm down, let the nerves cool, and lets get on with out patrol." responded Banks.  
  
"En route to way point four Major. Radar sites back home detected a small grouping of AA (anti-air) defenses in the vicinity."  
  
"Padre -- I'm picking up a heat register. Appears to be a harvester." With the vein movement in the area, upper brass probably had anticipated some vein harvesting. "Search and investigate, then report back."  
  
"Aye, sir!"  
  
Exiting the defensive formation, Padre had beelined to the heat register, while the remainder of the squadron continued its run toward the air batteries. Just as Bank's and his crew had reached firing range of the turrets, an explosion roared through the comm, followed by a concurrent scream of despair, closed with a crash. The Padre had been taken out. Somehow that heat register took out the Padre. Bank's made a quick command for the group to head to the blip's location.  
  
When they arrived, they saw the burning, charred wreckage of the Padre's Orca -- and a SAM site waiting. Obviously the Padre had not had his weapons armed, and was instantly taken out by the one site. Already engaged in assault mode, several Surefire missiles streaked toward the errant site, which, on impact, erupted in a skyrocketing fireball. Upon a closer, fly-by inspection, a structured sink the in ground revealed a hidden silo. Immediately suspecting Tiberium waste modules to be nearby -- he radioed home the coordinates and identity. A bombing force was quickly scrambled and dispatched, but all too late. After his announcement over the comm, Banks collided with an ejecting missile module. His plane lay in pieces on the ground, but a split second reaction saved him -- sort of. His ejector seat had become lodged in the vein packs, which contained the Tiberium material. With a final engagement of the ejector rockets, he managed to detonate a few of the containers harmlessly over the desert expanse below.  
  
In Major Banks' final moments, he had almost succeeded in thwarting a NOD plot to destroy the airbase. With the detonation of the material packets, he had lost his life, partly in vain. Two or three of the modules remained intact, which impacted successfully on the western quadrant of the facility. Hordes of fuel supplies were contaminated with Tiberium -- and dozens of technicians were submitted into specialist hospitals for Tiberium exposure.  
  
Even with the fatal sacrific of Major Banks and hundreds of other airmen, and the destruction of a prominent NOD tac-com facility -- the base was still lost to Tiberium contamination and exposure. The evil and unprejudiced enemy in the war of domination. 


	4. Tip the Balance

The assault group trudged steadily toward the outland Frostbite Outpost, a lone Titan production facility on the outer rim of the Antarctic Circle. Our mobile armored siege units, aka Artillery, were slowly sliding and slipping over the iced-over waterways. The everlasting winters caused the water to harden thickly, providing sufficient support for the massive artillery batteries, but every now and then, something would go wrong. A block of thinned ice would slip under the water, and a unit would have to be towed out from the water. Once we even lost an entire unit and its infantry escort when the ice under it buckled and collapsed underneath it. Even after then umerous logistical setbacks such as rations and munitions shortages, we reached our siege coordinates safely (for the most part) and began to set up camp.  
  
Private First Class (PFC) Darryl Bard, a close friend from boot camp and a trusted foot soldier, assisted myself, Lance Corporal (LC) Vance Davis, in raising our mammoth-sized artillery barrel. He supervised its orientation and stability while I manned the vast control panel.  
  
Adjust the yaw! Its spinning out of control and holy shit look out became some of the important phrases we learned when aligning an artillery piece. Equipment this sophisticated can't correct itself? That's a bummer. Either way, we made it, and out unit stood proud among the other units that were preparing themselves for the dusk siege assault. Rumor was that the tactical facility a few miles south of us would be sending in some cavalry reinforcements to defend the artillery brigade from any stragling patrols. When that reinforcement arrived -- the bombardment would begin.  
  
We had camped out in the perfect spot for artillery -- close enough to avoid direct defensive fire from turrets, and far enough away to avoid radar detection. The base had been designed with a weaker right flank since a large, unfrozen lakebed resided nearby. We took advantage of this architectural flaw and guided our artillery pieces through the icy streams and slick outputs of thw flowing lake. When we were ready to strike, a small, yet sizeable Assault Buggy battalion made its way to our position via the iced waterways. With our defensive squads dispatched, and enginners jerry-rigging makeshift SAM sites, we were ready to prepare for the onslaught.  
  
I can't remember if I already mentioned it, but this small, unprotected base was a major producer of GDI Titan and Wolverine walker components. Not the complete units -- those could be completed in more secure regions, but just the essential parts: weapons, propulsion and guidance. The good stuff! If we knocked this base off the map with our Lock-Grumman C-10 canisters -- the GDI resistance in this sector, if not worldwide, would be crippled and slowed by the fallen unit production rates. Mobile bases would be required to build their war machines from the material presented before them, and that would pose a serious logistical threat to GDI thinkers. Yet, they left this important facility with a thorn in its paw, and a bleeding wound to match.  
  
The attack began right at dusk as the base's reveille sounded. We were so close to the facility we could hear it faintly in the distance, but it was soon accompanied by massive explosions. Gunnery engineers had decided that rapid deployment forces such as infantrymen and Wolverines were top priority. Removing those elements would force them to sue slower Titans and Distruptors. By strategically removing fuel bays and weapons dispensaries, we successfully reduced the chances of armed resistance. Satellite reconnaisance reported to us that the Wolverine deployment bays had been abandoned, and pilots rushed to the Titan bays. We really couldn't stop their deployment -- they ran off of pseudonuclear reactors instead of fossil fuel. We managed to slow their advancement by bombing unscaleable trenches in the battlefield -- and the Titans would be forced to file in one direction, being picked off one by one by our eagle-eyed gunnery engineers.  
  
I'm not quite sure if you've ever seen a NOD artillery piece, but just to see them shoot is quite a sight. The power and force ejected from those monstrous barrels requires a brutal amount of support and structure. Ground spikes attached to the pieces must be drilled several feet underground, and the whole unit embed a foot beneath the topsoil. Even fully secured under the best conditions -- these bastards shake, shimmy, and whatnot ever time you press the trigger. The initial detonation within the barrel pushes the unit down and extra foot into the ground each time, only to spring back up again with the recoil. So you could say that they actually bounced. And then there is the inertia. These bastards get kicked back several feet per shot, the ground spikes digging deep gashes into the earth. If we tried to shoot these suckers unsecured -- I'm sure the force of the recoil would crush the unit like a tin can. But they built these bastards like a rock, and unless they take some direct fire, they will last you a lifetime.  
  
With the GDI forces scattering to find into and inside our range radius, we were destroying their structures and units left and right. A Wolverine would detonate into a ball of flames, then a nearby Barracks would explode, then maybe a charging infantry squad. In the end, hey were all vanquished by our unrelentless volley of artillery fire. The engineers had conducted their bombardment with such precision that a shell was hitting the base at any given point. Boom! Boom! Boom! The cheers emanated from the artillery ever time the spy satellite or the patrol binocs showed a GDI position being detonated and destroyed. Slowly the GDI numbers dwindled. The enlightened base commanders had their units building around a rough circumference of our shot radius inside the base. A wide arc of Wolverines, infantrymen, Titans and Distruptors was visible by radar and satellite. They were waiting for a breach in the radius to occur -- so that one unit could invade our range and slowly pick away at our forces. It wasnt going to happen that way. Eventually, we ceased fire to save munitions while more were being trucked in, but the GDI forces were hesitant to advance. Everytime a unit inched forward into our range, it would explode in a bright orange fireball. Everything was running according to plan -- at least until the Orca's came.  
  
A routine air survey patrol was returning home when its squadron leader had discovered half of the airfield was destroyed. Quickly landing his squadron and refueling and rearming, they made a beeline for our position. The makeshift SAMs our enginners produced through a rod into the squadron leaders plans momentarily, but they compensated and avoided the missile batteries. Within our final perimeter was one Orca bomber and three Orca fighter, primed and ready to fight. I quickly did the calculations in my head. With four missile packs in each fighter, we would lose roughtly two or three artillery, that left us with nine. But the bomber mixed in a few problems. As closely knit our units were, each bomb could take four orfive artillery with us, that leaves of with a worst case scenario of three artillery pieces remaining. There would be no way to complete to objective with only three units left. A few of the units shot off shells in an attempt to knock the annoying flies out of the sky, only managing to detonate a few missile packs. Still, they managed to raise the odds of survival higher, leaving us with roughly seven or eight artillery units remaining. The situation was secure enough to complete to mission, but just barely. Gunner quickly restarted bombardment while the infantrymen shot randomly and frantically into the air, hoping to put a bullet in just the right place to take down a fighter -- or if they were lucky -- the bomber.  
  
The remainder of the squadron created a barrier around the bomber, and shots impacted against the hardend armor of the GDI air units. At about 100 yards back, the bomber let loose its payload. With the interia it created with the forward motion -- they would be propelled far enough to impact with our battle group. We decided to keep the artillery going until the end. Dismantling them would waste valuble time that they could use to finish off the base. It didn't matter anyway -- the Orca's were significantly faster than an artillery piece, so it was easy to say that we should just stand here and die -- but some of the soldiers couldn't do it. Inside the reinforced armor hull of an artillery piece, you could survive a bomb blast or a missile impact. What did the artillery in was the loss of its barrel. If it lost that, it was noting but a slow APC. But the bare infantry on the battlefield would be incinerated, with nothing left to pick up. As the high explosives flew toward our position, a line of gunfire spread across their path, one by one the payload detonating in mid air. The stream of plasma bulets riddled the bombs with energy, sending their remains plummeting to the ground. From within a cloud of dust, a platoon of Tiberium Cyborgs stormed onto the battlefield, followed closely behind by a squadron of fully loaded Harpies. The Harpies flew through the dusty cloud, chainguns running on full power. Their depleted uranium bullets made confetti of the Orca bomber and fighter armors, sending them aflame to the ground, an unrecoverable hulk of twisted metal. The Harpies, now depleted of munitions, began to make their way to home to the base, when three exploded mysteriously in midair. Blue streaks filled the sky, impacting with the escaping Harpy force, decimating it completely, leaving no survivors. The blue streaks originiated from withing the crumbling walls of the GDI base. Engineers had just begun to dismantle and prep for departure the artillery pieces when more bursts of blue light emanated from the base. They struck the numerous artillery pieces that were defenseless against assault. All hell broke loose when the all too familiar earth shaking, thundering impacts of hydromechanical legs. The proverbian Mammoth Mark III prototype had made itself known, its rapid-fire railrifles running like Vulcan Cannons. The EMP cannon on is back charged and prepped for destruction. The blue-green orb of energy was propelled from its chassis, impacting smack in the middle of the escaping artillery. Instantly paralyzed by the impact, they became the most vulnerable target on the battlefield. The Mammoth stormed the forsaken artillery, crushing the burning, disabled hulks under its massive bulk. Underbelly Vulcan Cannons ripped through the remnants and any survivors mercilessly. It truely was a mammoth. It sported the single EMP cannon on its dorsal hull assembly, the two Vulcan Gauss Cannons on its anterior hull asssembly, supported by an arrangement of ventral Vulcan Cannons and dorsal Starfire missile packs. When the Mammoth stood tall against the burning wreckages, we were fortuneate enough to have recieve subterranean APC support, and most of the upper half of the chain of command had been saved. The rest of the grunts -- they burned with their comrades on forsaken soil. 


End file.
